


Rainboot Rainbow

by waferkya



Category: RPF Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waferkya/pseuds/waferkya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kostas wears rainboots to a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rainboot Rainbow

“I want sushi,” Kostas announces, head perched on top of his hand, elbows propped up his knees. He looks completely engrossed with something. Marce, still sitting in his underwear although training ended more than forty-five minutes ago, manages to tear his eyes away from his smartphone’s screen, and glances curiously at Kostas.

“Staring at Juanca’s ass makes you want sushi?” he asks, with a tiny, cheeky smile. Next to him, Juan Carlos is deliciously bent over at the waist, his foot propped up on the bench as he ties his shoe; he chokes on his own breath.

Kostas blushes, but he doesn’t even try to prove Marce wrong; moreover, he doesn’t even stop staring at the tense line of Juan Carlos’ back, how it bends so graciously into the curve of his jeans-clad ass. It’s not Kostas’ fault that it’s such an hypnotic sight.

Anyways, Marce is too pleased with his own wittiness to expect a reply; as if nothing’s happened he carries on, “Well, okay, fine. Sushi for dinner is always a go for me.”

“I’m in too,” says Alex; he looks at Marko and then, smirking, amends, “We’re in, too.”

“Brad?”

“ _Ugh_ , sushi.”

Marce, outraged at the complaint, jumps up and throws himself at Brad, promising that if he ever disrespects sushi again he’ll get bitten in the calves and he’ll spend the rest of his nights out at the karaoke and he’ll have to look after CJ next time they’re in Ibiza, and every single one of his threats is so very scary but it would probably work even better if Marce wasn’t speaking Portuguese, and extremely quickly at that.

Kostas leans back into the lockers; he meets Juan Carlos’ eyes and murmurs, “Sushi?”

Juan Carlos, a pretty shade of pink still settled high on his cheeks, nods straight away. After a moment, however, he looks up again and purses his lips, frowning.

“We’re launching the megastore tonight,” he grumps.

Kostas shrugs. “We can eat after that.”

Juan Carlos makes a noise of agreement, and then it takes him forever to finish tying his shoes.

 

Kostas is still running on Athens’ traffic-time, and actually he’s not yet sure whether or not Barcelona’s traffic has some kind of rhythm, which is why he ends up being more than fifteen minutes early, which means at least half an hour before everyone gets there.

Juan Carlos is sitting on a low wall, a little out of sight. The sky is heavy, streaked with dark grey clouds, and Juan Carlos’ face is stained a light blue from his phone’s screen.

“Yo,” Kostas says, when he’s still a dozen steps away. Juan Carlos looks up, his beard shifting around in a way that means he’s smiling.

“Yo,” he says back to Kostas, waving and putting his phone away in his jacket, but he doesn’t move from where he’s sitting. His eyes run slowly down the entire length of Kostas’ body — a slightly dumb, very pleased smile might’ve slipped from Kostas’ lips at that, — and eventually, they freeze at his ankles’ height. Juan Carlos arches an eyebrow so hard he probably pulled a muscle. “Uhm. You think it’s gonna rain?”

Kostas is up in his personal space by now; he stands on his toes, then rolls back to his heels. A cheerful symphony of squeaks from his rubber rainboots accompanies the movement.

“Well, I dunno about a flood, but it’s been raining all evening and I don’t really feel like slipping and breaking my neck,” Kostas says, and he’s completely serious. Juan Carlos, staring up at him and clearly biting his lips to keep himself from smiling like a complete moron, blinks very slowly.

“That sounds reasonable,” he says. “But that doesn’t explain why you’d wear a couple of candy canes.”

Kostas feels his cheeks heat up, and he doesn’t want to give Juan Carlos the satisfaction of making him blush, but the thing is, he’s absolutely incapable of resisting that cheeky, clever glint in Juan Carlos’ eyes.

“They’re not candy canes,” he mumbles, with whatever shred of dignity he can put together while he’s rocking on his heels. “They’re striped red and white because of Olympiacos.”

“ _Aaahh_ , now I see,” Juan Carlos nods, over-playing his thoughtfulness. After a moment, however, he can’t keep it together anymore and he starts giggling.

Kostas rolls his eyes, barely biting back a grin. He offers Juan Carlos a hand, and then stubbornly ignores the butterflies going crazy in his stomach when Juan Carlos doesn’t hesitate before gripping it and pulling himself up to his feet.

“How was the inauguration?” Kostas asks, and he starts walking towards the sushi bar. He squeezes Juan Carlos’ hand one last time, before letting go of him and stuffing his own hands deep inside his coat’s pocket, to keep himself from reaching out again.

Juan Carlos shrugs. “Long, people talked a lot. A bunch of photographers, too,” he adds with a shiver, and Kostas laughs, hits him with his elbow.

“Did you give a lot of interviews?”

“Ugh, no, luckily not. But standing there being wallpaper for an hour is almost worse. Next time there’s a thing like this, remind me to send Lorba.”

Kostas laughs. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. No one is better than you at standing somewhere being pretty.”

It’s karma, really: Juan Carlos is blushing now, and he rolls his shoulders in like he’s trying to get back inside his tortoise-shell. He mumbles, “I’m not pretty.”

Kostas can’t help the big, sunny smile that almost splits his face in two. “No, you’re totally not.”

“Hey, sarcasm is a trademark,” Juan Carlos elbows him in the forearm.

“That, and being terribly pretty.”

“Ah. Well, that would explain why we signed you.”

It takes Kostas a moment to unravel the compliment — because Juan Carlos just said he’s pretty, right? — but when he does, suddenly there’s people everywhere and he can’t grab Juan Carlos’ hood and pull him in and kiss him breathless like he wants to. Judging from Juan Carlos’ shit-eating grin, it’s not a coincidence that they got to the sushi place _right now_.

Kostas absolutely refuses to accept defeat, though; he grabs Juan Carlos’ arm, even though he was already half inside the restaurant, and starts tugging him away, ignoring the curious glances they get from the people smoking on the sidewalk.

“Kostas,” Juan Carlos says, half a laughter in his voice, and Kostas glares at him from above his shoulder, turning at the first corner into a tiny dead-end street between two buildings. Kostas already knows how the walls of this particular alley would feel against the nape of his neck and the palms of his hands. He starts to walk deeper into the alley, but Juan Carlos stops him.

“It’s a bog,” he says, pointing at the dark puddles of rainwater that have almost completely swallowed the concrete.

Kostas tilts his head to the side.

“I don’t see the problem.”

Juan Carlos opens his mouth to explain where exactly the problem is, but Kostas shuts him up with a kiss — Juan Carlos freezes, because they’re still too much in the open, and his hands on Kostas’ chest are ready to push him away, — slides his hands down Juan Carlos’ sides, to the small of his back, past his ass and behind his thighs — it only takes him a moment to get there but Juan Carlos’ heart, hammering into his ribcage, seems to have counted away an hour or two. Kostas scoops Juan Carlos up almost effortlessly, grinning against his mouth when Juan Carlos softly yelps and wraps his legs around Kostas’ waist.

Kostas’ rubber rainboots sink in the puddle well past the ankle and Kostas, his feet warm and dry and Juan Carlos’ fingers in his hair, his tongue licking its way into Juan Carlos’ mouth, is absolutely pleased with himself.  


**Author's Note:**

> :'D
> 
> Juanca actually went to Barça's new megastore inauguration, he actually really only stood there being pretty for 1+ hour, and it was actually really raining. The sushi and the making out and the rainboots are all my fault, however.


End file.
